


Something We Do

by sdk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, F/F, HP Kinkfest 2019, Infidelity, Nipple Play, POV First Person, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Smoking, Spanking, Vaginal Penetration, anal penetration, clit spanking, implied Harry/Ginny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 09:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18007898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdk/pseuds/sdk
Summary: You do what I want until I ask you to stay.





	Something We Do

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time participating in kinkfest and I'm super thrilled. Thanks to Torino10154 for the helpful beta, Writcraft for the inspiring and flexible prompt, and to the mods for running this fest. It's been a pleasure!

I look at you and all I see is a lie. There's defiance, yes, in the hard flecks of brown in your eyes, in the fiery strands of your hair. Passion in your quick harsh breaths, in the grip of your hands. Lust in the way you gaze at my body, in the quick swipe of your tongue over your lower lip. 

But the lie colors it all.

You tell me what you think I want to hear. You don't love him. You're leaving. It's just a matter of timing, of getting your youngest off to Hogwarts, your oldest through fifth year's failing marks and near expulsion. One last Burrow Christmas. One last birthday. I don't even ask now, but still you tell me in sweet nothings whispered in my ear with sweat drying on your thighs, nipples licked hard, pussy dripping wet as we lie together. 

"Soon, baby." You press your face into my neck and sigh. "I'll be all yours. Soon."

I don't need to see your face to know how easily the lie rolls off your tongue. Sometimes I wonder if you still believe it, or if it's just a habit you've adopted, one you can't break. Like having a biscuit at lunchtime. Having a fag after sex. It's just something you do. (Something we do.)

I know what you want from me when you bend over and arch your back, thrusting your arse in the air. You're my little whore, you tell me, if not with your mouth then with your body. You hold yourself open and beg. Most nights it's true. You are _my_ whore. You do what I want, position yourself how I say, take my dildo in your arse or your cunt as I please, let me squeeze the hard little nubs of your nipples until you scream, present your arse for me to spank until your skin flushes red and ripe and is hot _hot_ hot to the touch. You do whatever I want, at least until you come. And then it's after, lying in damp sheets, breathing too hard. And then it's "Do you want me to--" until I shake my head, no. Until I tell you I'm fine. I'm fully satisfied. (I know how to lie too.) 

And then it's soft touches and maybe a kiss or two, until, "He'll be wondering where I am."

You do what I want until I ask you to stay. 

Tonight you want to touch me. I could say no, but I let you. I close my eyes as your hands 'round my breasts. Quick nimble fingers unbutton my blouse. You squeeze my tits through my bra, thumb over my nipples. It doesn't take much until I'm moaning quietly, high pitched sighs and pleading mews that I know get you going. You push my bra down and flick your tongue over my skin. I'm so sensitive that it only takes the lightest suck before I'm trembling and so wet and aching between my legs. You know my body so well; you know what I can take. You push me down on the bed and then it's an awkward scramble to get rid of the rest of my clothes. It doesn't matter how many times we do it, my jeans always get caught even as I lift my hips up as high as they can go so you can yank them off. My knickers are next and they loop around my ankles before I manage to kick them free. 

"Is this what you want?" You cup my hot cunt. It feels so good, just this, just the heat of your palm, your fingers curling around me. You smack me, just once, lightly on my folds. I thrust up for more, but you grip my hip tight and press me back into the bed. "Answer me."

"Yes," I whimper. Shameful heat blooms across my skin, but that only intensifies my desire. It's rare that I do this, and I only do this for you, let myself go so completely, so openly. It doesn't matter how I'll regret it later, I give into it now. I spread my thighs wider. I beg so quietly, but I know you'll hear me. You always hear me. "Please, Gin." 

"Hold yourself open."

I do as you ask. I tremble as I close my eyes and wait. 

_Tap, tap, tap._ You rap my clit so lightly and still it zings through my body. Every glance of your fingers pushes me higher. 

"More," I say, my voice more breath than sound. But you hear me. You know. Your fingers flex and stiffen. You flick them down again in a quick staccato beat. Pleasure courses through me, but it's not enough, not yet. (Not ever.)

"Harder," I rasp. You slip down my body and press my thighs open wider. I open my eyes and watch you stare at my pussy. You blow on my clit, soft and gentle, and I have to fight to stay still and not squirm. Right now is the moment I want to live in. (I want to escape.) Right now I want to keep you here between my legs, close my eyes and let myself go with just the warmth from your breath. 

_Slap._ My breath comes out in a great big whoosh of a scream. _Slap._ Tears spring into my eyes as pleasure spills over the knife-edge of pain. _Slap_. You come down on me again and again until I'm desperate and wailing. Until I'm begging aimlessly, begging for something I don't know how to name. Until I can't hold myself open any longer and I let go to grip the bedsheets and thrust my pussy to your mouth. Your tongue soothes me once, twice, and I'm coming and coming, pulsing all over, spilling myself into you. I ride the wave as long as I can, until the pleasure is gone and all that's left is the sweet soreness of pain. I push your head away, push your hands off me, and flop back onto the bed with a sigh. 

"Fuck," I hear you whisper sometime later after you've pulled yourself up and collapsed by my side. A lighter clicks; I inhale and smell bitter tobacco. I watch smoke drift up in lazy circles above. 

"Give me that," I say. 

You hand the cigarette over even as you protest with, "You don't smoke."

"You don't know everything about me." 

"Yes, I do." You say it with such confidence. You say it like it's nothing. I fight the urge to turn away, to grab a blanket and hide myself. Instead, I inhale, long and deep, and promptly start coughing. 

"See?" you say, and grab the fag back from me. I watch you take another drag, and another, until you snuff it out in the half-drunk glass of whiskey on the nightstand. 

"Shouldn't you be going?" I try to keep my tone casual but I can feel your quizzical gaze. 

"I guess," you say. "He'll be wondering where I am."

"Right." 

But you don't move. I know what you're waiting for, and this is the moment I realize how much you need it. Like your biscuit at lunch. Your cigarette after sex. The silence stretches on, and the words are in my throat, but I won't release them. Finally you roll off the bed, and I watch as you gather your scattered clothes and pull them on, one by one. Your knickers, your shorts, your white t-shirt covered in grime from a pick-up game of Quidditch that afternoon. You linger as long as you can manage, but soon all that's left is to grab your wand and you're a spell away from gone. 

"See you," you say, then you disappear with a crack.

I exhale my words to the empty room. 

"Stay. Please stay." 

But I won't ask you anymore.


End file.
